The months slipped by almost without me noticing.
Each day followed the same rhythm, yet somehow, none of them ever felt truly repetitive.
The seasons gradually shifted, the trees surrounding our home grew a little taller, and before I knew it, what had once been the routine of a child had become the foundation of my new life.
Every morning began before the sun had fully risen.
The crisp air carried the scent of dew-covered grass as Father and I made our way to the open field behind our house.
Wooden practice swords clashed against one another, their dull thuds echoing across the quiet countryside.
“Again.”
Father’s calm but commanding voice left no room for complaint.
Sweat dripped from my forehead as I tightened my grip on the long staff.
My arms trembled from exhaustion, but I raised the weapon once more.
“Haa…!”
I lunged forward, aiming for his shoulder.
With effortless precision, Father stepped aside, redirecting my strike with a single movement before lightly tapping my chest with his own.
“You’re dead.”
“…Again?” I groaned, panting heavily.
A faint smile appeared on Father’s usually stoic face.
“You asked me to teach you. If you give up after a few defeats, you’ll never become stronger.”
“…Right.”
Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself and assumed my stance once more.
“One more time.”
The training rarely changed.
Footwork.
Forms.
Balance.
Endurance.
Then sparring until every muscle in my body screamed for rest.
Father was strict, never lowering his standards simply because I was his son.
If anything, he expected even more from me.
At first, I could barely keep up.
But as the weeks turned into months, my body gradually adapted.
My swings became faster.
My footing steadier.
The bruises that once lingered for days disappeared by the next morning.
Though Father never praised me openly, I noticed our sparring sessions lasting a little longer before he landed the deciding blow.
That alone was enough to tell me I was improving.
By midday, after a quick wash and a hearty lunch, the atmosphere would completely change.
Instead of wooden weapons and aching muscles, I found myself seated inside Mother’s study, surrounded by neatly arranged books that seemed to stretch endlessly across the shelves.
The room always smelled faintly of parchment, ink, and dried herbs.
Mother would already be waiting with a gentle smile.
“Ready for today’s lesson?”
“I am.”
“Good. Then let’s continue where we left off yesterday.”
Unlike Father’s straightforward teaching style, Mother’s lessons required patience and concentration.
Reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, history, etiquette, and most importantly, the theory behind magic every subject expanded my understanding of this world’s history and the mysterious forces that governed it.
Whenever I answered correctly, Mother would nod with quiet satisfaction.
“Excellent. You’re learning much faster than I expected.”
“Well…” I scratched my cheek with an awkward smile.
“It’s interesting.”
She chuckled softly.
“Curiosity is a wonderful quality to have. Never lose it my dear.”
Hours would pass before either of us realized it.
By the time the afternoon sun painted golden rays across the room, another lesson had come to an end.
Some evenings were peaceful enough that we shared tea while discussing what I had learned that day.
Other times, Mother would quiz me unexpectedly during dinner, much to Father’s amusement whenever I struggled to remember a particularly difficult historical date.
“Our son spends all morning swinging a staff,” Father would say with a faint grin, “yet he’s defeated by a history question.”
“I-I remembered the battle, just not the year it happened…”
Mother laughed softly.
“Both are equally important.”
“…Easy for you to say.” I mumbled quietly.
The peaceful laughter around the dinner table slowly became one of the moments I treasured most.
Looking back, those few months had transformed me in ways I hadn’t expected.
My body had grown noticeably stronger from Father’s relentless training, while my mind had expanded through Mother’s endless lessons.
Every passing day brought new knowledge, new challenges, and another small step toward becoming someone capable of surviving and thriving in this unfamiliar world.
It wasn’t a life filled with grand adventures or dramatic battles.
But strangely enough…
I found myself enjoying every single day.
The morning sun had only just begun to climb above the horizon, bathing the estate in a warm golden glow.
Like every other day, I finished my morning routine without fail.
Hundreds of strikes with my staff.
Footwork drills until every step became instinct.
Physical conditioning until sweat soaked through my clothes.
Finally, meditation to calm both my mind and my magic.
As I finished my last breathing exercise, I let out a long sigh.
“…It’s getting easier.”
Not that I was complaining.
In fact, because the routine no longer pushed me to my limits, I had started adding another set on my own.
Father never instructed me to do so.
It was simply something I decided for myself.
If I wanted to become stronger, then I couldn’t allow myself to become comfortable.
After wiping the sweat from my face, I looked toward the training grounds.
“…Huh?”
Father wasn’t there.
That was unusual.
Normally, he would either supervise my training or continue his own practice long after I had finished.
Curious, I wandered through the manor.
The library…
Empty.
The garden…
No sign of him.
Eventually, I reached the study.
The wooden door was slightly ajar, and faint rustling sounds came from inside.
Knock.
Knock.
“Father?”
“Come in.”
Pushing the door open, I stepped inside.
Stacks of books were neatly arranged across the shelves, while documents covered the large oak desk near the window.
Father stood beside it, organizing several scrolls and placing them into a leather satchel.
But what caught my attention wasn’t what he was doing.
It was what he was wearing.
Instead of his usual training attire, he wore a dark semi-formal coat over a crisp white shirt, complete with polished leather boots.
It wasn’t extravagant enough for a noble banquet, yet it was far too formal for an ordinary trip into town.
It looked like the kind of outfit someone wore when meeting an old friend after many years.
Father noticed my gaze and chuckled.
“Something on your mind?”
“…You’re dressed differently today.”
“I suppose I am.”
He smiled faintly before setting another document into his bag.
“Before that, tell me. How was today’s training?”
“I already finished.”
He nodded, waiting for me to continue.
“I also added another set to my routine.”
“Oh?” father look amused.
“It started feeling… easier.”
I scratched my cheek awkwardly.
“So I thought I should increase the workload.”
“It wasn’t part of your schedule.”
“No… I just wanted to.”
For a brief moment, Father remained silent.
Then, a small smile appeared on his face.
“I see.”
There wasn’t excessive praise.
No dramatic reaction.
Just a single nod of approval.
Yet somehow…
That simple acknowledgment made me happier than any compliment.
Without another word, Father opened one of the desk drawers and retrieved an envelope.
“This is for you.”
I accepted it carefully.
The parchment felt expensive, sealed with crimson wax.
What immediately drew my attention, however, was the emblem pressed into the seal.
An elegant wings spread outward and a curved tail beneath them.
My eyes widened for the briefest instant.
‘…The Fairy Tail guild crest.’
Fortunately, I managed to keep my expression under control.
Breaking the seal, I unfolded the letter.
As I read through it, my heartbeat gradually quickened.
To the beloved son of our cherished companion,
I pray that this letter finds you in good health and high spirits.
Though many years have passed since we last walked the same roads as your father, the memories we forged together remain as vivid as ever.
Bonds born through laughter, hardship, and countless adventures are not so easily erased by the passage of time.
They are treasures that continue to shine within our hearts.
It is because of those treasured memories that I write to you today.
On behalf of everyone at Fairy Tail, I extend to you our warmest invitation.
Should fate ever guide your footsteps to the Kingdom of Fiore, know that the doors of our guild stand wide open, awaiting your arrival.
If, in your heart, you wish to walk the path of a mage; to challenge the unknown, protect those dear to you, and seek companions who will one day become your family, then there will always be a place for you among us.
You need not prove your worth before crossing our threshold, for Fairy Tail has never been a guild that measures people by their strength alone.
We welcome those with courage in their hearts and the determination to move forward, no matter how uncertain the road ahead may be.
Whether you come seeking adventure, a new beginning, or simply a place to belong, know that you shall be greeted not as a stranger, but as the child of a dear friend whose legacy still lives on within these halls.
Until the day we have the pleasure of meeting you in person, may fortune smile upon your journey, may your magic continue to grow, and may the light of hope always guide your path.
We eagerly await the day when we can welcome you home.
With sincere regards,
The Master of Fairy Tail
I slowly lowered the letter.
“…”
I looked up toward Father.
He simply nodded.
“Your mother and I have already discussed it.”
His voice was calm, yet carried a weight that made me listen carefully.
“You’ve spent years inside this estate. Then there is the Trainings. Studying. Repeating the same routine every single day.”
He walked toward the window, gazing at the vast fields beyond.
“You’ve grown stronger. But strength gained within the safety of these walls can only take you so far.”
He turned back toward me.
“It is time. Time for you to see the world with your own eyes. Meet new people. Face dangers. Make your own choices.”
His expression softened.
“As your parents, we naturally worry. We want you to become stronger… but more importantly we want you to return home safely.”
“That is why we decided it would be best for you to join my old guild. Fairy Tail.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Father slowly pulled back the collar of his coat.
Etched proudly upon his shoulder was a familiar crimson emblem.
The Fairy Tail insignia.
I had seen it countless times before, but somehow…
Today, it felt different.
“This mark,” Father said quietly, tracing the emblem with his fingers, “is more than proof that you’re a mage. It is proof that you have a family.”
His gaze became distant, as though recalling memories from many years ago.
“The people there will argue with you. They’ll laugh at you. They’ll drag you into trouble. They’ll probably destroy half the town every other week.”
“…”
“…”
“…Wait.” Father laughed.
“Ahem. Well… that last part is difficult to deny.”
Even I couldn’t help smiling.
“But when your back is against the wall, when everyone else abandons you… They will stand beside you. That is the kind of guild Fairy Tail is. They’re among the strongest guilds in Fiore today. I trust them and I trust them with my son’s future.”
Hearing those words filled my chest with excitement I could barely contain.
The stories Father had told me…
The legendary mages…
The adventures…
The magic…
I was finally going to see them myself.
Unable to stop myself, I leaned forward.
“So when are we leaving?” I glanced at Father’s clothes again.
“Today?”
Father shook his head.
“No. I’m only visiting by myself today.”
His expression became serious once more.
“You will remain here. For another month.”
“…Eh?”
The excitement that had been building inside me instantly deflated.
Seeing my reaction, Father chuckled.
“I know you’re eager. But you’re not ready.”
He reached into another drawer and pulled out a brand-new book.
Unlike the worn manuals he usually handed me, this one looked almost untouched.
The dark leather cover was pristine, with silver letters embossed across the front.
Rune Combat Fundamentals
Father handed it to me.
“This contains my own notes and experiences. I wrote it years ago. The more advanced books would only confuse you at your current level. So begin with this one.”
He tapped the cover lightly.
“I want you to learn how to weave Rune Magic naturally into combat. Not as separate techniques. But as one.”
I carefully accepted the book.
Its weight felt heavier than its pages alone could explain.
It carried Father’s years of experience.
His victories.
His failures.
Everything he had learned on the battlefield.
Looking into his eyes, I answered firmly.
“Yes, Father. I understand.”
He gave a satisfied nod.
“Good.”
“For the next month… Study, Train, Experiment. And once I believe you’re ready…”
He smiled.
“We’ll go to Magnolia… To Fairy Tail.”
My excitement returned stronger than before.
One month.
Just one month.
I looked down at the book resting in my hands.
Unlike before, I wasn’t walking into the unknown empty-handed.
I now possessed Father’s recorded knowledge on Rune Magic combat.
But…
I didn’t intend to merely copy his fighting style.
As incredible as Father’s techniques were, they belonged to him.
Not me.
I already had countless ideas running through my head ways to combine rune inscriptions with my staff, methods to reinforce movement mid-combat, even techniques that could seamlessly transition between offense and defense without breaking momentum.
If I could merge Father’s experience with my own creativity…
Then perhaps…
I could forge a combat style that belonged to no one else.
A style that was unmistakably Mine.
.
.
.
.
<Hey!
New Author here!
i just want to tell anyone who is reading this, thank you for taking a little time for reading my creation, this is just a little hobby for me.
hope you enjoy it and any comment, suggestion and opinion don’t be shy to tell me.
just be kind as much as possible that’s it thank you and i hope you have a nice day!>
<Also thank you ‘Lastp’ for the powerstone.
Much appreciated!
if you have comments or suggestion don’t be shy to tell me.
hehe>